Coming to know the tides of the human body — of which there are many: the inhale-exhale cycle of the breath, the lub-dub of the heart, the layers of movement within the cranial tides, wakefulness and sleep, birth and dying … not to mention the tides of nature: seasons, lunar phases … — has recently been showing me a great deal about working artfully with change, pain and evolution. (My own very much included.)

When a tide of fluid, say, is exhaling … I, as a bodyworker, can either pull against it, or ride with it (and, oddly enough, either can be a beautiful, wise choice! Perhaps the common thread of good treatment is, either way, there’s a listening the whole time).
But pull too much and I can lose the beauty and the joy of the ride down, of the descent, the exhale IN to a pattern, before … Listen and wait … Aaaahhhhhh the tide turns and that’s a beautiful time to not only listen, but actively encourage that opening. (We’re assuming, for this example, there was a kind of stuckness, and the point of the treatment was to get more un-stuck.)

I’ve noticed I can use that same kind of waiting … Not waiting like a bump on a log, spacing out ’til some magical being changes my life … But waiting, like Jesus said, “dressed and ready for service … like men waiting for their master to return, so that when he comes and knocks they can immediately open the door for him …”

I can use that kind of waiting to feel into *when* are those effective, with-the-flow-of-life times to catalyze, or just good ol’ create, change.

Like it starts on its own. And then the fun is surfing that wave.

(Surfing’s another great example. Paddling out when the surf is crashing sucks. You wait, enjoy the beach, and when the waves start to die down … You paddle like hell.)